Struggling to Fly
by FancifulRivers
Summary: Harry's been sent to a summer camp for abused children. Unfortunately for him, Snape is one of the counselors. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I do not and never will own Harry Potter.**

 **I saw a prompt somewhere about Harry going to a camp for abused children and finding Snape working there. So I took that and ran with it. Very AU.**

 **(Set after first year.)**

The bars on the windows hadn't been the most humiliating part.

The cans of lukewarm soup pushed through the cat flap in the door hadn't been, either.

Hedwig was at Ron's, and Harry had been so relieved that he'd thought to do that he'd nearly wet himself, but that hadn't been too terrible, either.

No, the worst was a Muggle _neighbour_ noticing that he never came out of the house anymore.

The most humiliating part of Harry's summer was the police coming through the door, forcing open the rows of locks, to see Harry Potter curled up in the center of his grimy mattress, clad only in his shorts, with purpling bruises covering most of his torso and his shoulders from his uncle and cousin's attentions. His eye was puffed shut and he peered at the intruders through the other one.

The worst bit was the look of pity on the lead officer's face.

* * *

He'd been taken out of the Dursleys' custody, of course. Dudley had been, too, for all his complaining, but at least he was sent to live with Aunt Marge. Harry was supposed to go to an orphanage, but instead ended up with a foster family, the sister or cousin or someone related to the police officer who'd seen him first. The relative's name was Patricia Brumsley and she had the biggest, most plastic smile on her face that Harry had ever seen.

He had his school trunk (thank Merlin), but no way to contact anybody from school. Would anybody notice when he didn't show up on September first? He couldn't see how he could explain to a Muggle foster family that he was actually magic and had to go back to a wizarding boarding school called Hogwarts. He'd be locked up in a loony bin instead, and even the Dursleys' less-than-tender mercies sounded better.

Having nothing better to do, Harry spent almost an hour searching the Brumsleys' house without looking like he was, hoping for some sign that perhaps they weren't as Muggle as they appeared (although if that were the case, surely someone would have _reacted_ to him, Patricia had _seen_ the blasted lightning scar on his forehead, and hadn't said a word other than to cluck over its reddened appearance). He only stopped when John Brumsley, Patricia's husband, asked him what he was doing, and that was because for a moment, he'd forgotten he wasn't with Uncle Vernon and had dropped into a protective crouch on pure instinct.

Harry spent only a week in the Brumsleys' care before they decided that they knew a place even more well suited for his needs.

Summer camp.


	2. Chapter 2

The camp's name was simple. Camp Retreat. For abused and neglected children, from five all the way up to eighteen. Harry had read the pamphlet from cover to cover more than once. It promised hiking, swimming, sports, arts and crafts- oh, and therapy. Sort of. Group therapy and individual therapy, but it wasn't required. He was glad for that. He would rather spend the rest of the summer in detention with Snape than talk to someone about the Dursleys and his _feelings_ and how _are_ you, Harry, _really_?

Patricia had packed his bag for him. New clothes (albeit secondhand, but they were clean and well-mended and all of them were his size, which was new). His trainers _were_ brand new, he'd gotten to pick them out in a shop. Some books. His wand was hidden in his bag, too, just in case. He felt naked without it.

The bus jolted to a stop and he peered out the window with mild interest, wondering if they were there yet. Nope- another bus stop, this one with only a few children sluggishly getting onto the bus. One of the girls came down the aisle to where he sat. She had a slight gap in her front teeth and very long, very straggly dirty blonde hair, held back with brightly coloured butterfly barrettes.

"May I sit here?" she asked in a dreamy voice, and he nodded, a trifle sullenly.

"Thank you," she said, expression serene. She had a mottled bruise extending up the side of her neck like a bird's wing, and it made him swallow hard against the knot in his throat. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, briefly disturbing his fringe.

"I'm Luna Lovegood," she introduced herself. "It is nice to meet you, Harry Potter."

He gaped at her.

"That is your name, isn't it?" she asked, now looking a bit uncertain. "I don't believe there are very many people with scars like that on their foreheads, but I could be wrong. If that is not your name, could you tell me what it really is?"

"No, it's that," he admitted. "How did you- are you-" He stopped.

"Yes," she said, smiling a little. "I'm not a Muggle, if that's what you mean."

"Do you go-" He broke off again. This time, the smile did not reach her eyes.

"I am supposed to in September," she informed him. "It will be my first year. I am looking forward to it, Harry Potter." She settled herself resolutely in her seat, looking at the back of the seat in front of them. The bruise was more purple-black than he'd originally thought, and spanned most of her throat.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, but Luna didn't look around at him again.

* * *

The next stop _was_ Camp Retreat, and Luna started to smile once more once they'd stepped off the bus. Harry found himself watching over her, and couldn't figure out why. Perhaps because she knew who he was. Or because she was magic. He wondered who had given her the bruise. Was she a Muggleborn like Hermione? Had her family hated magic as fiercely as the Dursleys? He wished that he could ask.

"Over here!" a voice shouted, propelled through a megaphone, and Harry was strongly reminded of Hagrid. But no, this person was a very skinny woman with frizzy blonde hair and thick glasses, wearing a whistle around her neck and a blue Retreat shirt.

"There you all are," the woman said, beaming. She had a plastic nametag pinned to her shirt that read _Karen_ in neat blocky script. "I'm Karen, and I'm the head counselor this summer. It's good to see all of you. You are the last bus to arrive this summer, and we are pleased to have you." She went on, but Harry's attention drifted. He still got most of the basics. Every camper was to be assigned to a group. It was random, but you could also ask to switch groups (if you wanted to be with a friend or something of the sort). The groups were small, no more than four or five, and were overseen by at least one counselor, but preferably two. Most of your time at camp would be centered around said groups, though it was different when it came to therapy, and you could always request to do an activity with another group instead. Therapy was sorted out by ages.

Harry ended up in a group with Luna, a girl with very red hair that reminded him of Ron's, and a boy who looked much younger, who kept cowering away and folding his hands in the hem of his shirt. The redheaded girl's name was April, the boy's name was Toby.

Their counselor was a very freckled woman with slightly shaggy brown hair and sparkling blue eyes that were reminiscent of Dumbledore's twinkle.

"Just call me Evelyn," she told them with a friendly smile, and Harry did not fail to notice Toby edging away from the woman, looking like a startled deer. "You'll be getting another counselor with me, but he's not here yet. Must be running late. Oh, no, here he comes! Hi, Severus!"

And Harry whipped around and stared straight into the furiously disbelieving eyes of Severus Snape, incongruously dressed in Muggle clothes and looking like he'd swallowed the Giant Squid.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: I was not expecting so many faves/follows/reviews so quickly, thank y'all!**

Severus Snape was furious.

He came to Camp Retreat to, well, _retreat_. It was his refuge, and it was a way to atone for his past sins, a way to make up for the countless numbers of children crushed by the Dark Lord's past regime. It was a place he'd gone to as a boy (albeit no more than twice, as by then, he'd been too old to attend as a camper anymore), and it was a place he was proud to attend as a counselor, helping other abused and neglected children to have a bit of fun, perhaps for the first time in their lives, and to seek help, should they require it. (And most of them did.)

To find out that Harry bloody Potter was here was more than he could stand.

Yet there the brat stood, slump-shouldered and shoes scuffed in the dust, duffel bag at his feet and defiance sparking in bottle-green eyes. The camp shirt stretched across his skinny chest was an affront to Severus's senses. The bloody Boy Who Lived did not belong at a children's camp for the _abused_ , and he swore if Dumbledore was somehow behind this, he'd ensure the old manipulative bastard choked on a lemon drop.

In the meantime, if he did not cool his temper, and _fast_ , he would petrify the other three children staring up at him with wide eyes.

"Hello," he said, attempting a smile and settling for a neutral grimace. "I'm Severus and I will be assisting Evelyn this year." The blonde girl looked at him distrustfully, and he could see the dark shadow of a bruise spanning her throat. The redheaded girl refused to meet his eyes, and the other boy was practically prostrate with fear. Brilliant. A shining start to the summer already, Severus, he mentally berated himself. He was normally much better at this, but Potter had thrown him for a loop.

Evelyn shot him a look that said they would almost certainly be having words later, before turning and shepherding her charges to their new cabin. He followed along at a leisurely pace, straining to hear a word Potter might let slip that would allow Severus to send him packing. What a delight that would be. He certainly didn't belong here, and he wondered again how on earth the brat had managed to make it here in the first place. You had to be referred. _Could_ Dumbledore have done it?

* * *

Harry could feel Snape's eyes boring into the back of his skull and had to stop himself from turning around every two seconds. He wasn't any happier about the situation than Snape was, perhaps even less so. Snape knowing the truth about the Dursleys in any way, shape, or form burnt in his stomach more fiercely than acid. He wasn't sure which reaction would be worse- disbelief or pity.

"Here we are," Evelyn announced brightly. There were several cabins dotting a very wide, open meadow surrounded by trees. A fox-embroidered flag waved jauntily from beside the door. "This will be where you sleep! We're sharing this cabin with one other group. Feel free to pick a bunk and settle in for a bit, all right? Talk to each other. Severus and I will be right back."

The smile she gave Severus had a hard edge and Harry wondered if the Potions professor was in for a tongue-lashing. Normally, he'd be all for anything that got Snape in trouble, but he had an unsettling feeling that anything that made Snape upset was going to be taken out on _him_. Which was assuredly _not_ a pleasant thought.

As they stepped into the cooler dimness of the cabin, Harry heaved a slight sigh of relief. Snape was no longer burning a hole between his shoulder blades, and he was in a group with Luna. The Dursleys were probably still in jail, and his new foster parents weren't _awful_. Maybe this summer would be all right.

"Here, Harry," Luna said, patting the top bunk. She'd already set her bag on the bottom bunk, and he pulled himself up to the top one willingly enough, wincing as the still-present bruises made themselves known. At least most of them were yellowed now, well on their way to healing. Patricia had told him that he'd have to go to the camp nurse though, to check up on them, and he wasn't looking forward to _that_ particular visit. With his luck, Snape was the camp nurse, and he had to shudder and rap hurriedly on the wooden frame of the bunk beds before that hideous thought could do more than bloom in the back of his mind.

"This is nice, isn't it?" Harry asked, flopping down with his head hanging off the edge so he could see Luna. She was sitting cross-legged on the middle of her bed, her shoes kicked off onto the floorboards.

"Very," she said, but she didn't look like it. Her smile was strained, and there were ghosts behind those storm-coloured eyes.

Toby and April were arguing in fierce whispers over who was to get the bottom bunk, Harry noted when he raised his head, steadying himself for a moment against the dizzying rush of blood returning.

"Hey," he called out, just loud enough to get their attention. "Why don't you keep swapping?"

"All right," April replied in a determined voice. "But I get it first." And she flung herself onto the blankets with a challenging look at Toby.

* * *

"I don't know what bug crawled up your ass and died, but you will not take it out on these kids, do you understand me?" Evelyn asked in the brightest tone Severus had ever heard a tongue-lashing delivered in. "You're a great counselor, Severus, so what's the problem?"

"Ah," Severus stalled, licking his lips. "One of the children is actually a student at the boarding school I am employed by," he prevaricated. It was the truth, at least. "I was surprised to see him here."

"He was probably surprised to see you, too," Evelyn snorted. "Do you need to supervise somewhere else?"

"No," Severus shook his head. He would not let his distaste of the Potter brat ruin his professionalism. Or the summers of the other children, who at least _deserved_ to be here. "It will be fine, Evelyn." He privately resolved to look at Potter's file. Perhaps the answer to how he'd managed to get in here would be revealed in that.

"Good," Evelyn nodded. "Now- the kids in our group are Toby, April, Luna, and Harry..."

As she went on, telling him the little she'd already gleaned from them during the walk to the cabin, Severus found his eyes drawn more and more to the semi-closed cabin door. What would Potter be doing in there? Surveying his kingdom? Plotting how to get the other children in trouble? He'd certainly drawn the lion's share of trouble at school; if Severus had had _his_ way, the brat would have been expelled before Christmas break.

With luck, he could have the boy sent home before the day was out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Again, thank you so much for the response to this! I'm glad that people actually like this. :)**

It wasn't until after dinner that Severus got a chance to look through his new charges' files. Luna's last name was Lovegood. The name was familiar and he realised that she was actually magical, too. He'd assumed the low thrum of internal magic was due solely to Potter, but judging by Luna's age, she was starting Hogwarts at the end of the summer. Mum was dead, father away all the time. The physical injuries the child had acquired were presumably at the hands of the neighbour who was supposed to be watching over her, although it was noted in her records that she refused to say either way.

Toby and April were most likely Muggle. Toby had recently been taken away from his parents, and April was now living with a grandmother. The girl had bouts of anger, the boy more likely to cower and fall to the ground at a wayward shadow. Severus sighed and rubbed his forehead. Each camper had one mandatory group therapy session and one individual therapy session. Perhaps the trained therapists could help, or start providing a semblance of a structure to help in the future.

Now for Potter. He was surprised to see the boy _had_ a proper file. Perhaps Dumbledore hadn't pulled strings to get the brat in here. The referring name was- he checked- Patricia Brumsley. She was a social worker.

The sparse details inside made Severus's eyebrows climb nearly to his hair. Taken away from an abusive, neglectful home, aunt and uncle in prison, cousin living with another aunt, a _foster family?_ Not to mention the yellow sticky note on his file (as on all his campers' files this year) that he had to attend the nurse? The only reason campers had that particular note was for physical maladies.

Then he recalled the defiant look in Potter's eyes, and slammed the file back into its cabinet. Perhaps it was still a lie, made up by Dumbledore or even Potter himself. He couldn't leave the camp to discover which himself, but he could send a Patronus to Hogwarts later, when everyone else had gone to bed.

* * *

Harry was having more fun here than he'd ever had in his life, only second to Hogwarts (and even then, it was still a bit of a toss-up as here, nobody was trying to kill him- he hoped). Evelyn was good at encouraging them to attempt things, even the bashful-to-the-point-of-tears Toby. There was an enormous playground-style area in front of the dining hall, and it was here that Evelyn and Snape took them first. Harry had never been to a playground (the Dursleys saved that particular pleasure for Dudley), and he felt rather silly at the blush of pleasure that kept overtaking him at random moments.

There were swings and a few slides and a climbing frame and even a sand-pit, although Harry noticed only the very youngest of children seemed to like playing in that.

There was also a swimming pool, but none of them were allowed to go near it yet. Everyone had to pass a swimming test, Evelyn told them, and Harry blanched. He could swim, but it wasn't well, and he still had healing bruises scattered all over most of his chest. Toby looked similarly white, but the girls looked all right, and Luna even had a proper smile flitting about her face.

The arts and crafts building was enormous and filled with more art supplies than he'd ever seen in his life, even at his old primary school.

"You can stay here all day if you like," Evelyn grinned. "Well, not today, today is more of an orientation than anything else. But later."

"That would be brilliant," April breathed, eyes sparkling brighter than the sunlight.

Hiking trails wound their way into the forests that surrounded the camp, and there were also biking trails as well, Evelyn told them, although again, they needed to take a test to pass. Harry had never ridden a bicycle before, but he thought he might be looking forward to it. Dudley had certainly always seemed to enjoy his, what little time he'd spent on it.

It would have been perfect if it wasn't for Snape.

The man had stopped outright glowering at him, but he could still feel Snape's eyes on him more often than not. Harry kept hunching his shoulders, hoping that none of the bruises could show over the collar of his shirt, or out of one sleeve. The thought of _Snape_ seeing the mementos the Dursleys had left him was intolerable.

"Are you all right?" Luna asked him softly when Evelyn had led them into the dining hall for lunch. Harry looked up from his sandwich in surprise.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" he replied, wincing at the defensive note in his voice. Luna raised an eyebrow, crunching a piece of celery in two.

"Thank you for answering my question," Luna said, and Harry knew what she meant.

"Are you?" Harry tried to turn the tables on her, but she only smiled wistfully.

"Not really," Luna said, and picked the crust off her sandwich, offering it to April, who stuffed it into her mouth in one go. _At least she's honest, I suppose,_ Harry thought, finishing his sandwich. Evelyn sat at the end of the table nearest to him, and he was relieved that Severus was the farthest away. The man was carrying on a gentle, low-voiced conversation with Toby, whose shoulders had straightened up a bit, and who was eating an apple with more enthusiasm than Harry had seen so far. It was a puzzle, a contradiction, and Harry found himself stealing glances at his Potions professor out of his peripheral vision.

It wasn't fair, he thought bitterly, nibbling at an oatmeal raisin cookie. The professor had never looked at him with that gentle expression, never talked to him like he was soothing a skittish horse. No, Harry was only good for yelling and detention and that icy look in Snape's eyes, like Harry was lower than pond scum on his shoes. His father's son, yet wasn't it amazing how Harry was the one who had no bloody idea what that meant? He couldn't remember James (or Lily, for that matter), and it was beyond cruel that the one person at school who'd actually ever properly _talked_ about his father beyond Quidditch was the one who'd also hated the man's guts.

He angrily kicked the table leg, freezing when Evelyn raised an eyebrow at him, and Snape paused in his discussion with Toby. Scrunching down against the table, Harry morosely finished eating his cookie. Something bumped against the side of his palm and he realised with surprise it was Luna's dessert.

"Here," she said softly. "I'm not hungry anymore."


	5. Chapter 5

Harry couldn't sleep.

He rolled over again, poking the pillow into a better position. He could hear Luna's sleep-lulled breathing, April's occasional snort, and the unsteady, half-hitching, half-snoring sleep sounds of Toby, who'd been given a bottom bunk anyway. Two top bunks being open didn't seem to concern Evelyn much. He didn't know how Snape felt about it.

The two counselors slept in the same cabin, but only Evelyn was asleep. He wasn't sure where Snape was. He knew he was supposed to call the man Severus, but it felt...wrong. He couldn't help but imagine that he would be punished for taking such liberties when he got back to Hogwarts, and Merlin knew the professor probably couldn't wait to have him in the dungeons for a month's worth of detentions.

 _How dare you be abused, Potter,_ he could imagine Snape railing at him, froth gathering at the corners of his mouth like it did when he was _really_ angry. _What did you do to make your family treat you so poorly? You deserved all of it!_

He did, he knew he did, and he was surprised when he felt tears start to form. He wasn't in pain (well, much), not after visiting the camp nurse (who was thankfully _not_ Snape, but rather a woman named Jenny with braided blonde hair and wire-rim glasses). She'd given him some pain killers and despite being Muggle, they were accomplishing their job nicely.

It wasn't _physical_ pain Harry felt. It was purely emotional and as far as he knew, there wasn't a tablet or potion in the world that could fix _that_.

 _More's the pity,_ he thought sourly and rolled onto his side. He was exhausted, but still, his mind would not shut up.

And suddenly, he knew what he was about to do was stupid, knew he was going to get into trouble (with _somebody_ , if not Snape), and yet he still crept down the ladder in his socked feet, tiptoeing over to the door and pushing it open. The night was dark and still and beautiful, and Harry eased his way out into it as carefully as he could.

Snape was nowhere in sight, but as he peered into the darkness, thankful he'd snagged his glasses, he saw an unusually bright point of light behind the cabin and decided to find out what exactly it was.

It was Snape, as it turned out. Snape with his wand out, talking to what looked like a ghostly deer. Harry's forehead wrinkled in confusion. What on earth was _that_?

He didn't know if he made a sound- but Snape turned, eyes flaring, and wand swiftly disappearing in his pocket.

"I know you're there," Snape called. Harry gulped, feeling like a gallon of ice water had just been dumped through his veins, then turned and fled.

The cabin had never seemed so far away and Harry was just reaching for the door when he realised there was no way he could burst through the door the way he was, panting and sweaty-faced. He'd wake everyone up and then Snape would be _certain_ to know it was him. So instead, he hooked around the side, flinging himself down onto the untidy grass below the cabin's window and trying desperately to calm his breathing.

After what felt like ages, he heard Snape's footsteps, heard the door creak open, and Snape vanish inside. Harry slumped in despair. Great. Now he definitely couldn't sneak back inside. Snape would be on him in an instant, and he had no doubt that the man would use any opportunity he could to get him sent back to Little Whinging. Probably right back to the Dursleys, even. They were probably still in jail, but why would that matter? He could be in the next cell.

A mad fit of the giggles bubbled up Harry's throat and he had to clamp both hands over his lips, trying to stifle them. They escaped anyway through muffled snorts and hitches of his breathing, until finally, they settled down, and he realised he was utterly exhausted. The grass was soft, too (certainly softer than the ratty mattress that he'd been accustomed to at his aunt and uncle's), and Harry yawned, curling up in a ball. Perhaps he could nap out here for a little while and then slip back into the cabin, when Snape was more likely to be asleep.

He was sound asleep in five minutes.

* * *

Severus went back to bed, but found it harder to drop off than he'd thought. A camper had seen his Patronus, he was nearly certain of it. He'd put up a Muggle repelling charm, so he _thought_ chances were good it was either Luna or Potter (or perhaps another magically-inclined camper). But he didn't _know_ , and that was concerning. He'd not slipped up like this in years. The thought of performing a Memory Charm on a child was abhorrent.

It figured it would be Potter who caused his mental unrest. He scowled, pulling his blanket up to his chin. Whoever had been outside had interrupted him before he could complete his task, so all Dumbledore would know was that Severus had questions concerning the Potter boy. It was a start, he supposed. And perhaps just that would be enough to send the brat packing. He grinned in the darkness. What a pleasant thought that would be.

It felt like only minutes had passed before the sun was shining in his eyes, and Evelyn was prodding his shoulder with slightly shaking fingers.

"Severus," she hissed, casting nervous glances around the still-quiet cabin. "Severus, Harry isn't in his bed."

And like that, he was awake.

"What do you mean, Harry is not in his bed?" he growled, careful to call the brat by his first name. Evelyn bit her bottom lip, looking distressed.

"His blankets are rumpled up, but he's not there," Evelyn murmured. "I don't know where he could have gone."

"I'll find him," Severus said, hissing in displeasure as he sat up and his back crackled. He hated early mornings. "You stay here with the others. Have Tina and Gregory woken up yet?" he asked, referring to the counselors who ran the other group of campers at the other end of the cabin. It was divided in two by a badly-hung curtain, but it provided each group with a modicum of privacy.

"I don't think so," Evelyn replied. "I woke up early. It's not even six yet."

 _Of course it's not,_ Severus thought, attempting (badly) to hide his scowl. _When I find you, Potter..._

Where could the brat have gone? Severus wondered, as he laced his shoes up and departed the cabin. There was a chill in the air from the early hour, and it looked like nobody else was stirring yet. Then again, breakfast wasn't until eight, and many of the campers (and counselors, for that matter) liked to stay abed as late as possible, especially in the beginning of the summer.

He rounded the corner and stopped short. Potter was nestled under the window in the damp grass, and he looked like he'd been there a while. In his sleep, his shirt had ridden up, and Severus could see a yellowed splotch of bruise curling around the bottom of the boy's ribcage.

As Severus leaned down to wake up the boy, he realised with an uncomfortable twinge that perhaps Potter had the right to be here after all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Thank you again for so much interest in this! It's really appreciated. :)**

"Harry."

Harry twitched, yawned so hard his jaw cracked, then opened his eyes to see his Potions professor not six inches from his face. All traces of drowsiness fled as he bolted upright, nearly smacking his head against the outside wall of the cabin.

"S-sorry, sir," he stammered. The man looked relatively neutral, but for Snape, that wasn't saying much. He still looked like he wanted to skin Harry alive and use his organs for Potions ingredients.

"Be calm, Pott-Harry," Snape said, sounding impatient. "It's all right. Evelyn noticed you were missing. Have you been out here all night?"

He shrugged, turning it into a half-nod.

"Sort of, sir," Harry replied, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

"Call me Severus," Snape reminded him, and Harry blanched before nodding again weakly. He still couldn't help feeling like it was all a trap to ensure he was expelled, or that he'd get detention all year.

"You could catch cold sleeping outside," Snape said. He was kneeling next to him, his bare knees sunk into the dew-damp grass, and Harry thought he now looked remarkably friendly. For Snape, anyway.

"Sorry," Harry whispered. "I didn't mean to."

"Why were you outside anyway?" Snape asked, his gaze sharpening just a bit. Harry gulped.

"Um, well, I couldn't sleep," Harry prevaricated.

"You were the one who saw my Patronus, aren't you," Snape said. It wasn't a question. Harry hunched his shoulders in defensively.

"What's a Patronus?" he asked instead of responding.

"It's a charm," Severus replied. "It conjures a magical guardian that becomes a projection of your most positive feelings. They can be used to send messages to other witches and wizards, and they can also be used particularly to drive back dementors. The spell is exceptionally difficult, and most students can't manage it."

"Oh," Harry said, looking down at the grass. The individual blades were springing back from where he'd crushed them as he watched.

"I was attempting to communicate with the Headmaster," Snape continued. "About you."

Harry glanced up then, surprise and hurt warring with each other in his eyes.

"I am certain the Headmaster has no idea you are at this camp," Snape said, sounding stern, like he usually did in Potions class. "That's troubling, P-Harry."

"Yes, well," Harry shrugged, swallowing the bitter laugh that threatened to spill forth. "The Headmaster has no idea about a lot of things."

"Such as?" Snape prompted, but the door to the cabin banged open, and Harry heard Evelyn's voice, shepherding her other charges outside.

"Never mind," Harry said, propelling himself to his feet and going to find a change of clothes and his shoes.

* * *

Severus sat back on his heels, watching the boy go. The Boy Who Lived to Confund Him, he thought, with a rueful shake of his head. He could guess what Potter was hinting that Albus didn't know, particularly if it was connected to the bruises on the child's ribs. He scowled. He would blame it on Muggles, if it wasn't for the fact he knew good and well magic did not protect a child from a heinous home life. More's the pity.

Breakfast was a subdued affair. He sat at the end of the table, watching Potter interact with the other campers. He talked to Luna the most, Severus noted, spreading preserves on his toast. The dreamy-eyed witch was an enigma wrapped in mystery. He could place her family now- her mum had blown up in a Potions mishap two years ago, her father wrote the nonsensical rag that passed itself off as a respectable publication (what was it? the Quibbler?). As far as he knew, she had no siblings and no other relatives. Almost without thinking, his eyes gravitated to the bruise spreading purple-black tendrils over her throat. It looked like the child had been strangled, perhaps.

Toby refused to talk to Evelyn, so Severus found himself with the dubious task of attempting to help the boy open up. He was the youngest in their group, and his shyness was near debilitating.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked gently, coaxing the child to eat another bite of fruit. Toby nodded, cheeks stained brilliant red.

"Yes, sir," Toby said.

"Call me Severus," he corrected, in as calm a tone as he could manage. Toby flinched before subsiding and returning to his strawberries. Severus carefully held in his sigh, sharing a glance with Evelyn, who sat next to April. This was going to be a long summer.

"Today, you'll be introduced to therapeutic sessions," Evelyn said, pitched loud enough for everyone to hear her. April propped her head on her chin, looking bored, while Potter (Harry, Severus mentally corrected himself) stared resolutely at the table top.

"Your first sessions, both group and individual, are mandatory," Evelyn explained. "It's really just an introduction to what can happen at them, however. Individual sessions are more geared toward setting you up _after_ the summer, whether that be with medication or a counselor at home. We aren't really equipped to help you more than that, I'm afraid." Evelyn sighed regretfully, and Severus couldn't help but echo her. There was so much each camper kept locked away inside, and one summer at Camp Retreat wasn't nearly enough to help them all. At least they could have a few months of fun, though.

Group sessions were more about interacting with your peers than anything else, Evelyn told them. Severus tuned out a bit; he'd heard this speech (and delivered it) often enough. It wasn't until Toby started plucking fearfully at his shirt sleeve that he came back to himself, looking down at the boy in surprise.

"Will you be there?" Toby whispered, brown eyes wide. Severus nodded.

"Where you go, I go," he said, trying a smile that looked more like a snarl, most likely. It seemed to satisfy Toby, though, who scooted away to finish his breakfast.

Severus looked up, startled to see the envy glittering in Harry's bottle-green eyes, before he turned away.

 _Envy?_ Severus thought, baffled. _For what?_


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Look, it hasn't been abandoned! I'm sorry it's taken so long to update. Despite having it semi-outlined, my inspiration kind of vanished for a while/I've been struggling with writer's block for at least a year off and on. Also, their group therapy is loosely based on the one I go to. :)**

The first group therapy session started after breakfast. Harry's feet dragged as he walked up to the building and he noticed he wasn't the only one. Toby's back was so stiff, he looked like Neville right as Hermione hit him with _Petrificus Totalus_ , and he thought only Snape's grip on the boy's hand kept him upright and moving forward. Luna _looked_ unconcerned, mostly, but he could see shadows in her eyes, and she kept reaching up to touch the bruises on her throat, her fingers barely spanning it. April just kept talking to Evelyn, keeping up an aggressive ramble that he didn't know how she could keep up with, but she managed.

"Welcome!" A woman with very knobby knees (and blonde hair streaked with _pink_ of all things) said brightly, standing in the entryway. "I'm Lucy and if you're looking for group, you found it!" She winked and Harry found himself fighting back a smile. He didn't _want_ to like group therapy.

"I'm Marcus and I co-run it," a man stepped out beside Lucy. His face was nearly as freckled as Ron's, though his arms were mostly just pale. Harry was privately relieved to note he looked _nothing_ like Marcus Flint, despite the name. "Why don't you all come in and take a seat?"

Harry sat between Evelyn and Luna, watching April take up Evelyn's other side and Toby perch nervously beside Luna. Snape, who was still being death gripped by Toby, sat down next to him, looking far more relaxed than he had a right to be, Harry thought with a prickle of annoyed envy.

Looking around the room, Harry noticed approximately eight other campers. Tina and Gregory, the counselors in charge of the other half of their cabin, bookended four of them, and he didn't recognise the others.

"Why don't we go around the room and introduce ourselves?" Lucy suggested, settling into a folding chair next to Marcus.

"Susannah," the girl to Lucy's right said, picking at her fingernails, and they were off. Harry had a hard time paying attention to the litany of names, though. He could feel his heart thud against his ribs. What if someone besides Luna was magical? What if they _knew_? Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived...to be Abused, he could just hear it now, and it made him cringe against his chair.

"Evelyn," she introduced herself brightly, and Harry realised with a start that it was his turn.

"Harry," he mumbled, staring resolutely at the floor. Was that a gasp? Was he reading too much into it? Was it-

"I'm Luna," Luna said, cutting through his self-pitying paranoia.

"If you keep going to these, we'll also do icebreaker questions," Lucy said, once introductions were finished. "You know, things like favourite seasons, favourite hobbies, what do you like to do in school..."

 _Well I like to go flying,_ Harry thought, catching Snape's eye by accident and having to stave off the giggles. _And playing wizard's chess with my friend Ron, but I'm pants at it..._ They'd think he was totally mental.

"We'll also ask you to rate how you're feeling, on a scale from one through ten," Marcus added. "You can always elaborate, but you're never required to."

 _Of course, you could just lie,_ Harry thought. His face warmed at the thought. _Or maybe not._ Not with Snape staring right through him, anyway.

"So is that it then?" April interrupted, her chin jutting out in challenge. "Just stupid questions about our hobbies and how we're _feeling_?"

"No, it's not- April, was it?" Lucy answered calmly. Harry could see April's face turn bright red as she shrank back into her seat.

"The rest of our time here will be geared toward helping you learn skills that will help you after the summer," Lucy continued. "Meditation, distractions, how to de-stress and get out of upsetting situations. All of those things are important and useful to learn."

 _How to escape You Know Who possessing your DADA teacher,_ Harry thought, and actively fought back a shudder. He was suddenly, painfully aware of how closely Snape had begun regarding him, over Luna's head.

The group orientation continued with a brief relaxation exercise. As Marcus's voice cascaded over them, directing them to tense various bits and release, Harry fought back sleep. The grass outside had made a decent bed, but he was still exhausted. By the drowsy murmurs around him, he wasn't the only one.

* * *

Severus made amused eye contact with Evelyn, somewhere around the "take in a deep breath and then let it go" bit. She, too, had noted most of their charges were either asleep, or on the verge of it, including Toby, whose breath puffed out in shallow heaves of narrow shoulders. His grip on Severus's hand had finally loosened, though he didn't remove it.

For the sake of everyone still awake, Marcus continued until the end, then waited a few moments longer.

"How was that?" He asked, pitched loud enough to stir everyone. Severus watched Potter jump into wakefulness, an automatic tensing of shoulders and ducking of head that made Severus frown in thought.

"Don't worry if you fell asleep," Lucy said with a gentle smile. "Relaxation exercises are, well, relaxing! It's common to fall asleep, especially when you're just starting out."

Marcus glanced at his wrist watch.

"That's about all the time we have for today, unfortunately," he told everyone. "Group sessions are Tuesdays and Thursdays. You don't have to come to all of them, or any of them, if you'd rather not. Some people like coming every Tuesday, for instance, or every other session. It's up to you. Even if you miss sessions, you shouldn't need much catch-up; we've designed these to be easy to fall into, no matter where you start."

Severus eyed his group. Luna looked contemplative as she chewed on a thumbnail. April was mulish, staring daggers into the wall opposite her. He doubted that this would have persuaded her to come to any more group sessions. Toby was still fearful, and Severus had a feeling that if he did, it would only be under Severus's guarding eyes. Potter...

Severus watched Potter a moment longer. He couldn't decide. The boy was decidedly blank-faced. Well, he would or he wouldn't, Severus thought, standing up with the rest of the group and helping to put the folding chairs back along the wall. It wasn't up to Severus thankfully.

"Individual sessions are after lunch for our campers," Evelyn told him lowly. "If I go in with Luna and April, will you go in with Harry and Toby?"

He opened his mouth to say no, not wanting to be in close quarters with Potter, then remembered the yellowing bruises on the boy's ribs, the pain in his eyes when he'd spoken of Albus.

"Yes, of course," he said, and wondered what he was getting himself into.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Apologies for taking a while to update.**

Harry wasn't sure what he wanted to do about his individual therapy session. It would be with Marcus, apparently. He could have Severus come in with him, or he could go it alone. He thought he'd rather face Quirrell again than go it alone, but on the other hand, Snape hated him.

Or did he? After this morning, Harry wasn't sure. He didn't want Snape to tell the Headmaster anything either, though, and would the man feel obligated to, if Harry said anything? Of course, Snape had probably looked at his records...

Harry didn't realise how quickly he was jiggling his leg until Luna put her hand on his knee.

"Are you turning into a butterfly, Harry?" She asked. His cheeks turned red.

"No," he said.

"That's a shame," she said. "Butterflies are so pretty." He didn't know what to say to that. Luna simply turned back to the orange she appeared to be dissecting.

"Harry," Snape said over Toby's head. Harry fought to keep from falling off the bench.

"Yes si- Severus?" he asked. It would never feel right calling his professor by his first name. Ever.

"Would you like to go to your session by yourself, or would you like me with you?" Snape asked. Harry peered up into the man's face, searching for any sign of disgust or disdain.

"Like you with me," Harry mumbled as fast as he could. Was that surprise glittering in Snape's eyes? He wanted to take it back in the next moment, but Snape had already turned back to Toby to ask him the same thing (although Harry could guess the answer there) and the moment was lost.

"It will be all right," Luna said, patting the back of his hand with a curlicue of orange peel. "You'll see."

Harry doubted that.

* * *

Marcus's office was in the same building as group therapy had been, Harry noticed as Snape shepherded both him and Toby. Toby kept visibly shaking and Harry had a feeling that only Severus's grip on the boy's hand kept him from bolting like a frightened rabbit.

"Toby's session will be first," Snape said. "It shouldn't take long. I trust you can sit out here on this bench and behave?"

"Yes, sir- Severus," Harry said, swallowing hard. The warning had been delivered relatively gently (probably for Toby's benefit), but Harry read it loud and clear. If he did _not_ behave by Snape's standards, well-

He had a feeling dissecting rat spleens until he turned twenty would loom in his future.

As he waited, he looked around. There were paintings on the walls- some looked like they had been professionally done, seascapes and the like, but others were childish lines of crayon and paint, obviously done by the children who visited the camp. Harry thought it was interesting they were displayed side by side. Even Aunt Petunia didn't put up any of Dudley's artwork in a frame like that, like it was real art. She used to put some of them on the refrigerator, though, when Dudley was younger. Then Harry guessed he had gotten too old, because the artwork had come down, tucked into this album or that.

The bench was more comfortable than he had expected. It didn't at all feel like he was in trouble. He'd expected the time to pass slowly, but it seemed like it was no time at all before Snape and Toby were leaving Marcus's office. Toby's eyes were red-rimmed but he looked more composed than Harry had seen him so far.

"Toby, I'd like you to remain on this bench while Harry has his session, too," Snape said. "Then we can meet up with the rest of the group, okay?" Toby nodded, hopping up on the bench next to Harry.

"Well?" Snape asked. "Come on then, Harry." Harry swallowed hard and stood up. Nerves bubbled in his stomach and he felt suddenly like he was about to face off against another troll. Or Voldemort. Had Marcus morphed into You Know Who when Snape wasn't looking? Would Snape turn him over to You Know Who? Would-

"Harry?" Snape sounded gentler. Harry blinked.

"S-sorry," he said. "Coming." Snape looked at him hard, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach it out and take Harry's the way he had done for Toby. It remained by his side, though. Harry was grateful for that. It was fine for Toby, but he would feel like a baby if he went into Marcus's office holding Snape's hand.

Marcus's office was nothing like he expected, either. It was a big, airy room with a desk in the corner, several bean bag chairs scattered around a very plush rug, and a low table covered in arts and crafts supplies. Bookshelves crammed every corner, and there were bins of toys in several of the lower shelves.

"Hi, Harry!" Marcus said cheerfully. "Would you like Severus to stay? It's okay to say yes or no." Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Sit down wherever you like," Marcus said, waving a hand at the plethora of options. After a moment's hesitation, Harry chose the bench towards the back. It reminded him of the one in the hallway.

"So, Harry," Marcus said, dragging a chair closer and reversing it so he could rest his arms on the back. Harry thought Snape looked mildly disapproving. "First, I just wanted to ask- how is camp treating you? Do you like it so far? Is there anything I can help with?"

"It's good," Harry said hesitantly. _Aside from the professor who hates me the most being my counselor, that is,_ he mentally added. "I've never been to summer camp before," he continued. "I don't er- really know what it's supposed to be like."

"That's okay," Marcus said, nodding. "A lot of our campers are here for the first time. Well, this is just an introduction to what's possible here. If you decide to continue having therapy sessions, you can always ask for one of your counselors to come in with you. Your foster family has contacted us and made it clear it's all about your comfort." He smiled reassuringly. Harry inwardly cringed. He didn't want Snape to hear about the Brumsleys or ask questions about why he was no longer with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. What if he told the headmaster and Dumbledore pulled strings to get him placed with the Dursleys again?

"Harry, are you all right?" Marcus asked. Harry blinked, wondering when the man had gotten so close.

"Y-yeah," he said. "Sorry." Marcus looked like he didn't quite believe him, but wasn't going to push the issue.

"If you choose to come again- which can be on your schedule, by the way," Marcus told him. "You don't have to come every time therapy sessions are scheduled, nor do you have to see me if you don't want to. There's actually several fully certified therapists who work at this camp, and I can vouch for all of them. As can Severus."

Hesitantly, Harry looked up at Snape, who nodded. He wished Snape would actually sit down. It felt...odd, having him loom over him. Not as threatening as he would have expected, but...

"We can talk about your life, what's happening at camp, and what happens after camp," Marcus said. "I know you've been placed with the Brumsleys fairly recently-"

"Yeah," Harry said. "They uh- they've been really nice to me."

"Patricia used to be a counselor here," Marcus confided with an easy smile. Well, that explained why they had decided to send Harry to Camp Retreat, he thought, shifting on the bench. "Do you have any questions, Harry?"

"What do you mean about after camp?" Harry asked carefully.

"Many children prefer receiving therapeutic services after leaving, as well," Marcus explained. "They find it helpful, whether individual or group, and I can help set you up with someone after you leave."

"Oh," Harry said. He didn't think he could take Marcus up on that. Even if he wanted to spill out all his problems, how could he? The instant he started nattering on about flying or Voldemort being on the back of his professor's head, he'd be locked up in the loony bin. Marcus would think he was utterly mental.

He didn't know this turmoil showed on his face until Snape took one look at him and quietly asked Marcus if they could have a moment.

"Of course," Marcus said, moving to the far end of the room. Snape sat on the bench next to him.

"Harry," Snape said in a low tone. "Marcus is not a wizard, but his sister's a witch. He knows about the wizarding world. You would not break the Statute should you choose to continue with therapy and mention your time at Hogwarts or anything you are struggling with that mentions magic."

"Does he- does he know who I am?" Harry asked with wide eyes. He wasn't sure he liked that. The Boy Who Lived wasn't supposed to be at a camp for abused kids. He was supposed to be the hope of the wizarding world, but he couldn't even rescue _himself_. His breathing sped up and Snape put one hand on his shoulder, lightly squeezing it and grounding him.

"He knows that you are Harry Potter, yes," Snape said quietly. "I assume he knows at least vaguely about the Dark Lord and his downfall. That does not mean he would think any less of you for being here. You are a child. You cannot help the circumstances that left you at Camp Retreat."

"Okay," Harry said, but he wasn't sure he believed his professor.

"You are allowed to continue to go to therapy sessions or not, but I did not want you to make a decision based on lack of information," Snape said, a bit stiffly.

"Thanks," Harry said. He didn't know how to feel about that.

He didn't know how to feel about all of this.


End file.
